


Lucky Jack

by blktauna



Category: The Sweeney (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blktauna/pseuds/blktauna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some villains have it in for Jack. They snatched the wrong copper...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Jack

**Author's Note:**

> from Brotherly Love 1.   
> A zine from the PhillySlash group.
    
    
    George sighed and shut the bedroom door.  It was cold, miserable and far too early. Jack, the miserable sod, was snoring away like his conscience was clear.  He should not have been surprised that Jack would have the day off when he had to go in.  Rotten bastard set him up like that all too often.  They had been properly legless last night and he was paying for it now.  He reckoned he was getting far too old for that sort of abuse as his mouth felt like sandpaper and he was fighting a brutal headache. Jack was having another attack of denial and he had made it amply clear that he'd rather drink himself unconscious than deal with sex in any form.  Jack wouldn't let him go, but couldn't seem to face him not being there.  Sometimes he wondered why he continued to stick with Jack.  It was a constant trial.  
    George cast a bleary eye at the clock.  If he didn't get moving, he'd be late.  He swore under his breath, snatched his coat up and flew out the front door.  Only the reflexes of a lifetime on the wrong side of the tracks got his arm up before the lead pipe caved his skull in.  He felt a sharp pain and heard the pipe crack his forearm, but he fought smartly in spite of it. 
    Fists came from all directions, but his eyes never left the pipe.  He grabbed it right before it met his collarbone, but wrestling with that left him open to attack from everywhere else.  One fellow went down with George's boot in his groin, but more punches and kicks swept in from the side. A fist flew in and bloodied his nose. He cracked someone across the throat, and ducked another punch, but one big lad finally pinned his arms and shoved him against the wall.  Then, the real kicking began.  Blows landed everywhere; face, body, knees. He managed to shout for help before a ham fist mercifully knocked him into unconsciousness.
    
    *
    
    George came around to a violent, burning pain in his arm and a skull fit to kill an elephant.  Everything was blurry and as he squinted to focus, he realised one of his eyes was swollen shut.  The floor was rough, and his arse and back were damp.  His coat and jacket had been taken and he shivered with the cold.  He tried to move away from the roughness of the wall and was pulled up short.  The burning in his arm had blossomed into searing agony.  His howl echoed in the small room.  The sound of chain and the bite of metal let him know he was handcuffed to a thick drainpipe.  Judging by the crunching pain, he reckoned that his arm was indeed broken.  
    "Oi, look.  The filth is alive."
    A meaty fist grabbed George by the hair and yanked his head back.  George recognised the heavy as one of the lads who'd caught him outside of Jack's flat.
    "Well Mr. Regan.  I do hope your boys have a value on you, as we're gonna trade you for our Sam."
    George coughed out a laugh.  So they thought he was Jack.  He didn't much fancy his chances when they found out he wasn't, but for now he'd play along.
    "They won't trade," he rasped.  
    "You'd best hope they will."
    A heavy boot landed just under his ribs.  He jerked away, yanking his arm.  The metal bit into his swollen wrist and he cried out in pain.  He lay gasping on the cold floor, unable to get away from the vicious kicks. Eventually, he passed out.
    
    *
    
    The squad room was the usual morning chaos.  Thorpe and Daniels sat arguing over the previous weekend's match, Matthews dozed at his desk and Bill sat reading his paper.  The phone rang, rousing Matthews.  He took a sip of his tea before answering it.
    "Squad Room.  DS Matthews."
    "Hello, Mr. Matthews."
    Matt recognised the voice.  It was Pete Martin, one of Big Harry's lads.  
    "That you, Pete?"
    "Yes Sir, it is.  I wanted to tell you we've got your Mr. Regan, and we wants our Sam in trade."
    "Do yeh, then?" Matt wasn't convinced.  They'd just nicked Sam Watkins for armed robbery; he wasn't even ready for trial yet.  
    "Yeah, we do.  Took 'im in front of 'is own house we did.  And we give 'im a good kickin, as a return for all he's done for us." 
    "You're having me on, Pete."
    "Stone Ginger, Mr. Matthews.  You go tell the Guvnor we have Mr. Regan.  I'll be calling back."
    Pete rang off and Matthews stared at the phone in disbelief.  He rapidly dialed Regan's number.
    
    *
    
    The loud beeping of the phone shocked Jack from his uneasy slumber.  He reached out next to him, but the sheets were cold and empty.  He squinted against the light and tried to focus on the clock.  It was still early.  He grabbed the phone and growled into it.
    "Regan..." Jack's voice was harsh with too much booze and too little sleep.
    "Guvnor, it's me...Matthews.  I'm sorry to wake you, but we've just had a call from one of Big Harry's lads.  Said they'd snatched you and were going to hold you hostage to trade for Sam Watkins."
    "What? Matt, if this is a joke, I'm not laughin'."
    "No joke, Guv.  Pete Martin called.  Said they'd grabbed you this morning and were holding you for Sam."
    "They're full of it.  Put George on the line."
    "Sorry, Sir.  He's not here.  He hasn't made it in yet."
    A sinking feeling took hold of Jack.  George was late only when they were together. 
    "Fuckin Hell, they've got George!" he snapped.  "Matt, send Bill down now! The crime lab boys as well.  And if any other calls come in, trace them! Get on to the local lads and start a house to house!"
    He slammed down the phone, heart pounding in his ears.  Jack threw on some clothes and went out front. There were signs of a good scuffle: scrapes on the pavement, broken bits of bush and spots of blood.  The sight of blood sent a chill straight through his bones. 
     He had pushed George away last night and now wished he hadn't.  Fear gnawed at him that he had ruined possibly their last night together.  It was plain that George wanted him, he surely wanted George, and it was bloody well past the time he should have accepted it too.  Perhaps he felt George was too good for him, and despite needing him desperately, he kept trying to push him back into the safety of birds.  Perhaps he was just scared.  Perhaps he just couldn't believe anyone cared for him anymore.  Perhaps it was all of these things.  Perhaps he'd be lucky enough to get George back in one piece.  
    
    
    *
    
    George slumped against the damp wall, looking out from under the fringe of his lashes.  He could still only see out of one eye and that faded in and out.  His arm felt as though it were being crushed in a vise. The pain was constant and nearly overwhelming. He sat panting for a few minutes, trying to get it under control. When he could finally manage to focus, he saw that he was, indeed, in a cellar.  There was a table and chair in the room and two small, high windows in the side wall.  He thought he could make out a phone on the table. 
     No one seemed to be about so he tried shifting himself.  After a few deep breaths and several minutes of swearing, he managed to lever himself up from the floor and into as comfortable a position as he could find, wedged against the pipe and the wall.  The pain had him shaking and sweating, but he bit his lip and steeled himself to try for the phone.  He couldn't even reach the chair.  Panic stabbed at him as he heard loud voices and the sound of a door opening.  He scrambled back to the wall, panting. 
    "You behaving in here, Mr. Regan?" 
    Pete stuck his head in through the doorway. 
    "Get stuffed," he snapped.
    Pete laughed at him and closed the door again. 
     George slumped down. He felt dizzy and sick. He wondered if Jack even knew he was gone yet.  Miserable bastard.  He was probably still asleep.  And after all that scotch, he'd be surprised if Jack ever woke up.
    Bastard.
    Things had started well enough.  They'd had few down the pub, resulting in Jack getting a bit loose and handsy.  Then they'd gone back to his place as it was closer, but as soon as George had tried to get a hand on him...well, Jack's demons had popped out and needed drowning in the Scotch.  
    'Why do I even try?'
    George knew the answer but it didn't give him any comfort.
    
    *
    
    Everyone milled worriedly around the squad room, waiting for Regan to arrive.  Daniels was on the phone, organizing a house to house with the locals and advising them of the situation.  Thorpe fidgeted in his chair, worry all over his face.  Matthews sat nervously by Regan's line and started thinking aloud.
    "The guvnor said they had George, right?" 
    "Yes," Thorpe answered.
    "But how would he know that? Pete said they'd grabbed the Guv coming out of his flat."  Matthews looked puzzled.  Suspicions had danced around in the back of his head for some time concerning Regan and Carter, and this incident was adding more fuel to the fire.
    "I guess George was over there."
    "What, again?" His theory was fast gaining strength.
    "What you mean 'again', Matt?" sniped Daniels.  "You're starting to sound like an old woman."
    "It's like they're married or something.  Now, if I didn't know better..."
    "Matt!!" Thorpe looked horrified.
    "You having a laugh, Matt?!" Daniels was glaring angrily.
    "Seriously.  Don't you think George gets special treatment?"
    "Yeah, he gets worse." Daniels put the phone down and glared at Matthews.  "Why don't you shut it, Matt.  Sounds to me like you're jealous!" 
    Daniels eyed him keenly, daring him to say something more, but Matthews didn't get the chance as Regan burst through the doors and shouted for coffee and an update.  Matt noticed the fear in Regan's eyes and wondered if anyone else on the squad besides Carter would get that reaction.  He sincerely doubted it.
    
    *
    
    George jerked awake as Pete brought Big Harry Walsh into the room.  His heart fell into the pit of his stomach.  Big Harry recognized him and wasn't happy. Shock and anger spread over his face.
    "'Ere 'e is, Mr. Walsh."
    Big Harry slapped Pete, then kicked him.  "You stupid bastard! That's not Regan!"
    George enjoyed watching Big Harry beat Pete, until Pete finally evaded him and ran, leaving the two of them alone.
    "Well, well.  If it isn't Mr. Carter."
    "'Ello Harry," George croaked out.  "You'll get thirty hard for killing me."
    "We don't want to kill you, Mr. Carter.  Not yet, anywise.  Funny that, how the lads got you instead of Mr. Regan."
    George glared at Big Harry and stayed resolutely silent.  Big Harry patted him on the cheek, right next to his black eye. George winced
     "I wonder 'ow much Mr. Regan values you, son.  Enough to give us back our Sam, you reckon?"
    "Mr. Regan won't deal with the likes of you, Harry."
    Harry scowled at him, then belted him across the cheek.  George tasted blood on his lip.  His one good eye glared defiantly back.
     "You'd best hope he does make a deal, Mr. Carter.  You'd best hope he does."
    George slumped against the pipe and watched Big Harry storm from the room.  With his good hand, he wiped his lip.  It came away ruby red.  He sighed and leaned his cheek against the cold wall.  He was feeling hot and his arm had gone numb.  He looked at his wrist and wished he hadn't. The bruising had gone black and his wrist had now swelled so much the metal bracelet was cutting into his flesh. He was getting a bad feeling that this might be it.  And thanks to Jack, he hadn't even gotten a farewell shag...Bastard.  He vaguely wondered if Jack would even miss him.
    
    *
    
    The squad room was eerily quiet.  Matthews chain smoked while Daniels scoured a large stack of reports.  Jack tried to read Daniels' summary but couldn't focus.  He paced back and forth too nervous to even smoke.  The phone shrilly reverberated throughout the squad room.  Jack shoved Matthews aside and took the call himself.
    "Regan!"
    "Good morning, Mr. Regan."
    "Big Harry Walsh.  You miserable bastard.  You have my Sergeant and I want him back.  Now!" Jack snarled.  
    "You know, Mr. Regan, it sounds as though your lad here is worth something to you.  Even in the state he's in.  You know, my lads thought he was you, at first.  Gave him a right kicking.  Might have broken something and all."
    "I'll do you, you bastard," Regan hissed through clenched teeth.
    "Why, Mr. Regan.  I might be led to think you were fond of Mr. Carter."
    "Put him on the phone," Jack growled.
    "I'm afraid that's impossible..."
    "On the phone, Harry.  Now!"
    Jack heard some scrambling and muffled shouting.  He then heard a moan of pain.  The pit of his stomach turned to ice.    He knew it was George.  
    "Jack?" came the hoarse whisper.
    "George! What 'ave they done to you?"
    There was a little choking noise that Jack realised was George laughing.  Rage began to build in him.  He reminded himself that the call was being traced and that all delays, even this one, would get them closer to George.
    "Showed me their hospitality, didn't they?"
    "I'm coming for you, George.  I'll get you out." 
    There was the sound of a scuffle and Jack distinctly heard George cry out again.  
    "George!" Jack shouted into the phone.  Everyone in the squad room flinched.  No one dared speak.  
    "I'm sorry, Mr. Regan, Mr. Carter's had to lie down again, and we've wasted enough time with this.  We'll meet you at that spot near the river.  You know the place.  Be there at seven tonight."
    Jack didn't answer; he just ground his teeth in frustration.
    "I didn't hear your answer, Mr. Regan."
    "I'll be there.  You'll regret this, Harry." 
    Harry rang off without a further word.  Jack slammed the phone down, panic welling in him again.  He looked out on the faces of the squad and saw that they were nearly in the same state.  He got a grip on himself, for their sake, and took a deep breath.
    "Right.  We have until seven tonight to find out where they're holding George."
    "Guv, would you be this concerned if they'd got anyone other than George?" 
    Jack glared at Matthews, who shrank back.  The other lads stared at him.  Jack's hands unthinkingly crushed a stack of reports as he half-rose, murder in his eyes.
    "Are you really that stupid, Matt?" said Daniels.  He moved closer to Jack, blocking Matthews from his view.  "Guv, house to house is done, the reports are here, and I'm going through them.  The phone tap was set up and they're going to call me when they have the number.  As soon as we have something..."
    Jack slumped back down into his chair, fury drained.  He sat with his head in his hands, swallowed up by his own thoughts.  What if they couldn't find George in time? What if they beat him so badly that he wasn't himself anymore? He reached in his drawer and pulled out his bottle of scotch.  He poured a stiff amount into his coffee and knocked it back.  It roiled in his stomach.  He sat shaking, actively fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.  If he got George back, he'd tell him how he felt, tell him how much he needed him.  He'd tell him he was sorry.  If he didn't get George back, he'd kill every last one of the bastards who were holding him.  His eyes burned, but he refused to let any tears leak out.
    "Guv?"
    Regan wiped his face and squinted up at Daniels.  He knew what he must look like but he didn't care much now.
    "Guv? Here's something from the local lads.  The lady across the street saw a white van parked in front of your flat.  She did manage to get the number plate." 
    For the first time that day, hope blossomed in Regan's heart.
    "We're tracking it down now.  The fella next to you was home and heard someone kicking up a fuss outside at seven this morning.  He saw six big lads toss something in the back of the white van and drive off in a hurry...I'm sorry, Guv.  We'll get him back."
    Jack smiled faintly.  "Just get onto the number plate, Tom."
    Daniels nodded and moved away.  
    
    *
    
    A sharp slap brought George awake.  He tried to ward off his attacker but his arm was pulled up short.  He knew it should hurt and was worried when it didn't.  He tried to focus on the face in front of him, but it kept moving.  He blinked.
    "Well, well, Mr. Carter.  Back with us, are ya?"
    George was too tired and cold to answer.  He stayed slumped against the wall and tried to gather his wits.  Big Harry had leaned in close to him.  There had to be something he could do, some way he could get a bit of his own back.  
    "Your Mr. Regan is meeting us tonight.  Bringing our Sam.  I wonder how glad he'll be to have you back?"
    George was shocked.  He'd never thought Jack would endanger himself like that.  It felt oddly good that Jack would throw away everything for him, but he couldn't really make himself believe it was true.  No, not his Jack, he wouldn't put anything before the job.  It had to be a trap.
    "You know, Mr. Carter, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.  There's a bit of a rumor going around about the pair of yeh.  Some of the lads say that you and Mr. Regan are right friendly after business hours..."
    George tried to look blank and wasn't sure he was successful.  It would do them no good to be labeled as poofs among the underworld.  It might start out as subtle jeering but it would end up with the two of them either dead in a back alley, slung out of the force by A10, or both.  He wasn't going to let Harry get any ideas.
    Harry leaned in and stroked George's cheek.  There was an evil gleam in his eye.  "Cause we was wondering why it was you that come out of Mr. Regan's gaff at that hour." 
    "We're friends, Harry," he sighed.  "What, you didn't think coppers had any?"
    "Just friends, Mr. Carter? He sounded awful concerned for you."
    "Ahhh well, Mr. Regan knows you, doesn't he.  I'll bet he's sussed what you done to me and he'll be none too pleased, you know."
    "Doesn't like his property damaged, eh?"
    George sighed and gathered his strength.  Harry was finally close enough to for him to do some damage of his own and this might be the only chance he got.  His arms were numb but he could feel his left leg well enough and slowly shifted it into position.
    "You two irons?"
    Harry leered at him and patted his cheek.  Anger boiled in George, giving him strength.  He mimed a kiss at Harry, who shrank back, appalled.  George seized the opportunity to attack.  Harry shouted in pain as George's knee made firm contact with his bollocks.  He belted George in the face, hard.  Harry stood unsteadily, snarled and put a good boot in, when all hell broke loose.
    
    *
    
    Three cars filled with squad members and another half dozen filled with the local lads descended on Sam Watkins' brother-in-law's house. The truck number plate and the phone number from the tap gave them the same address.  Jack was grateful that these were not villains of the clever variety.  He knocked on the front door, heart pounding.  He wanted to kick the thing in and break anything that got in his way.  He didn't want anyone to answer, and no one did.  He motioned for the uniform lads to force the door open, which they did in one good kick.  Men boiled up the steps and into the nearby rooms.  Jack heard a noise that sounded as if it came from the cellar.  He scrambled through his men and threw open the door. He heard Big Harry's voice and  knew that's where George had to be.
    "Down here, lads!"
    Jack led the charge into the dank cellar.  He froze at the sight of Big Harry looming over a crumpled bloody mess, handcuffed to a pipe on the far wall.  He knew it was George. Time slowed.  He saw the squad overrun Harry, fists and feet flying.  He watched each punch land and enjoyed every one.  Then, he saw George's head move.  
    "George!" he cried, rushing forward.  
    Jack's stomach turned when he saw George's pale skin mottled with blood and bruises.  Even his freckles were pale.  He shouted for someone to unlock the handcuffs as he clutched George close.
    "George, are you with me?"
    He stroked George's fine blond hair.  It was matted with blood and dirt.  Jack shook in terror.  He felt George's neck for a pulse and sighed in relief when he felt it.  
    "Who's got the bloody key?" he shouted.
    He felt George flinch at the noise.  He caressed his cheek and tickled him under the chin in the spot that always made him giggle.  The shadow of a smile appeared on George's bruised lips.  One bright turquoise eye opened and tried valiantly to stay that way.  
    "Guv?" George's voice was barely more than an exhalation of breath.  It was the sweetest sound Jack had ever heard.
    "George.  We got them.  We got the bastards that did this.  You're gonna be all right."
    He buried his face in George's hair and for the second time in a day, tears tried to force their way out.  When he finally fought them down, Jack felt eyes on him.  He quickly surveyed the room and spotted Matthews frowning at them.  Jack snarled at him, scaring him away.  His attention was shifted back to the ambulance squad as they tried to pry George from his grasp.  
    "Guv?" Daniels shook him slightly, bringing him back to reality.  "Guv, they need to take George now."
    With a last touch to George's face, Jack took a deep breath and let the doctors take him to the ambulance. He sat back on his heels and scrubbed his hands through his hair.  He let go the breath he was holding and stood to face Daniels.
    "Thanks, Tom.  Tell me what happened."
    "We rounded up Harry down here and grabbed Pete and a few others upstairs.  We got the van and several iron pipes.  Between the evidence, the eyewitness, and the phone tap, they'll all go up for a good stretch.  It's a good result.  Guv...George's tough as an old boot.  He'll be okay."
    Jack smiled and patted Daniels on the back.  "Where's Matt?"
    Daniels frowned a bit, then let his eyes zero in on the cellar door.  Matthews was hovering there, but skipped out of sight when both men's attention centered on him.  
    "Tom, go with the ambulance and call me as soon as they let you near George."
    "Yes, Guv."
    Daniels was out like a shot and up the steps.  Jack heaved a sigh and let his eyes wander around the dank space.  There was little light aside from the bare bulb in the ceiling.  Handcuffs were still attached to the iron pipe.  He could see blood on them even at this distance.  There were smudges of blood on the wall.  Jack suddenly felt sick to his stomach.  He quickly shoved his way back up the stairs and ran straight into Matthews.  He got a grip on his DS's coat and hustled him out into the back garden.  He tossed him against the garden wall and frowned menacingly.
    "Where do you want to go, Matt?" he growled.
    "What you mean 'where do I want to go'??"
    "You're done here, Matt.  But I'm giving you a nice way out.  Any squad you want, I'll see you get there."
    "What are you talking about, Guv?"
    "Don't try it on with me, mate."
    "This because I twigged to you and Carter?"
    Regan's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin white line.  Matthews immediately regretted his words.
    "Are you insinuating something, Detective Sergeant Matthews?" 
    "Look Sir, I came down here because you wanted me.  Since Carter came back on board, you pushed me aside for him.  You give him all the good jobs and you cut me out.  Are yeh telling me you done that cause 'es a better copper than me?"
    "Yes, I am." He sneered at Matt's look of disbelief.  "George works twice as hard as you do.  He's not after glory, like you are.  He does what I tell him, when I tell him, and without all your lip.  George is a team player, you aren't.  He'd never whinge at me over some problem with you.  He'd see that the two of you sorted it out on your own." Regan poked Matt's chest sharply with each word.  "And I don't like it that you're making accusations."
    "I'm not accusing you of anything, Guv.  I've seen you two together.  I've seen how you be'aved through all of this.  You'd have to be daft not to know what's going on."
    "But you're the only one flappin your lips over it.  You've not learned anything here, have you? It's all about loyalty, Matt.  And you don't have any, except to yourself.  So...I'll ask you once more.  Where do you want to go?"
    
    *
    
    George came back to consciousness in warmth and comfort.  Nothing hurt, but he felt as though he were floating outside his body.  He knew he was out of the cellar and he knew he should try and at least see where he was.  He snuffled a bit, cracked his eyes open and was greeted with the sight of a haggard Jack Regan sitting anxiously by his side.  George tried to grin. Jack's face lit up with joy. He pulled the chair closer, then leaned down and cautiously touched George's hand.
    "Hello, there.  You gave us quite the scare."
    George giggled.  He felt a bit squiffy.  They must have filled him with fun painkillers this time.  Jack looked so happy; he wanted nothing more than to kiss Jack.  He wished Jack would let him.
    "Is that what you want, George, to kiss me?"
    "Oi...Can you read my mind now, Jack?" That thought made George nervous.  Wouldn't do to let Jack know what was going on in there.  Or would it? Jack chuckled and lightly brushed his fingers over George's lips, making them tingle.  
    "No, George.  I think the painkillers are making you talk."
    "Oh..."
    "I never knew you wanted to kiss me."
    "Stupid bastard.  'Course I do." 
    "I was afraid you'd say that."
    "Why?"
    "I don't know.  Maybe because I don't want to ruin things for you."
    "Too late there," he giggled.  His eyes were closing in spite of his desire to remain awake.  He felt Jack sigh across his cheek and kiss him very lightly.  He tried very hard to open his eyes again, but failed.
    "Yes, I know.  Go to sleep, George.  We'll go over all this when you're fit, Ok?"
    "Ok," George smiled and drifted off.
    
    *
    
    Jack sat in his flat, whiskey in hand, and stared at the wall.  George was coming home the next morning and he no longer had the excuse of work to stay away from him.  He had wanted to tell George how seeing him in hospital had frightened him more than anything else he had faced.  He would willingly face down Big Harry telling the entire London underworld that he was queer for his sergeant, over the sight of George lying bloody and battered in that bed.  
    Poor George.  His face had been a mess.  One eye swollen shut, and there would be a new scar there now; nose all red, lip split and swollen.  Then he'd made the mistake of looking under the sheet.  Poor lad had been kicked black and blue.  The handcuffs had left a nasty cut in his wrist and they'd not been able to put him in plaster yet.  
    Jack was filled with guilt and fear.  He didn't like emotions; he'd never really learned how to deal with them, and George did nothing but provoke emotion in him.  The worst had been the sight of George on the cellar floor, all crumpled and bloody.  That had nearly killed him.  Then seeing him in hospital, lying there, white as the sheets, that had broken Jack down.  He'd wept uncontrollably into George's blanket all the while, praying no one noticed. Detective Inspectors did not cry over their sergeants, nor did blokes cry over their mates.
    Eventually the Ward Sister brought him a cup of tea, George woke up, and he'd got a grip on himself, but the fear had settled in and wouldn't be budged.  He'd talked to George's mother each day to check on him, but he hadn't been able to make himself visit.  He had no choice tomorrow.  He'd promised to take George home.  He knocked back another whisky and prayed for sleep.
    
    *
    
    George fidgeted like a three year old.  He desperately wanted to get home and to see Jack.  He only marginally listened to what the doctor said to him and he could have signed his life away for all the attention he paid to the paperwork.  Jack waltzed in as he was signing the last papers.  He smiled broadly.
    "Oi, Jack! Get us out of here will ya!"
    Jack grinned at him and ruffled his hair.
    "How are you feeling?"
    "Could do with a drink and a smoke, Guv."
    "Then let's get you home." 
    Jack patted him on the back and grabbed the bag from his hands. He gently steered them both out to the car.  George chuckled as he was getting a bit wound up just from having Jack's hand in the small of his back.  He leaned close and whispered in Jack's ear.
    "Could do with a shag first."
    He laughed aloud at the hitch in Jack's step.  He stopped laughing when he noticed the panic on Jack's face.  He sighed.  It had been a bit too much to hope that the demons would take a break for his homecoming; but he was somewhat relieved to see that Jack had driven himself, so they'd have at least a few minutes alone.
    "Jack, what's wrong?"
    "Nothing."
    "Don't try it on with me, Guv.  It's all over your face."
    "Save it for later," he growled.
    They drove in silence until reaching George's street.
    "You comin' in?" George knew he needed to talk to Jack before he slipped away again.
    "Your mum's waiting."
    "Well then, at least you won't have to fear for your honour."
    "George..."
    "Jack, look.  Something is eating at you and it needs sorting.  Just tell me what it is and I'll stop nagging about it, ok?"
    By some miracle, Jack found a spot near George's front door and shut the car off.  He took a deep breath and let his head flop back on the seat, staring straight ahead.  George chewed his lip.  When Jack wouldn't look at him, it always boded ill.
    "Matt's making trouble."
    "Is that all? What else is new, then?"
    Jack's head whipped around.  George smiled at him but Jack's expression of confusion didn't fade.
    "What do you know about it?"
    "Jack, Matt's always making trouble.  I've tried to talk to him, but he won't listen.  He was probably up your nose the whole time.  Thinks he's better than everyone else on the squad.  Did he actually do any work this time, or did he foist everything off on Tom and Jimmy?"
    "You're just a wealth of information, aren't you? Why didn't you tell me this before?"
    "Tried to sort it out without going up the rungs.  But what has Matt got to do with all this?"
    "He knows."
    "Knows what?"
    "He's sussed why you were coming out of my flat at seven am."
    "What? Are you tellin' me he's guessed that you had an attack of the denials and I had to work the early shift? He's not that good.  Look, Jack, we haven't got up to anything in ages.  I wish it was different, but I've given up hoping.  There's nothing for Matt to suss out, at least on your part, so stop worrying."
    George could read pain and guilt on Jack's face.  Jack heaved a sigh and fumbled for his cigarettes.  
    "There is," Jack said.
    "There is what?"
    Jack finally managed to light one and inhaled deeply.  His knuckles grew white as he clutched the wheel.  Clouds of smoke drifted in the close atmosphere of the car and tickled George's nose, reminding him how desperately he wanted one for himself.
    "There is something on my part for Matt to suss out."
    George sighed and leaned back into the seat.  He was starting to ache all over and wasn't sure he was ready to sit and argue with Jack. "Do leave off."
    "I need you, George.  I'm terrified at the thought of a life without you.  I know it's wrong, but I know how I feel.  I hate it, but I can't change it."
    George scowled.  He had always understood that Jack had difficulty accepting the fact they had sex, but he'd never thought that he'd hated doing it.  Now he wasn't sure if he was happy at Jack's admission of need or not.  
    "Cheers, I guess."
    A tap on the window scared them both witless.  George's mother, looking none too pleased, motioned for them to get out of the car and into the house.  Discretion being the better part of valour, they did.
    
    *
    
    "She gone, yet?"
    "Finally.  She always dote on you like this? No wonder you're spoiled."
    George was nicely tucked up in his bed, arm propped on a stack of pillows, the remains of a very tasty cake on a tray in his lap, and an electric blanket keeping his feet warm.  
    "No less than I deserve, is it? Give us a fag, will ya?"
    Jack fished about in his pockets and pulled out his cigarettes.  He shook one out and handed it to George.  His face grew warm when their fingers brushed.  George cupped his hands as he lit his cigarette.  Jack sighed and quickly pulled them away.  He was beginning to feel his emotions getting the better of him again.  George eyed him with concern. "You sure you're all right?"
    He leaned back into the pillows and took a long drag from the cigarette.  The smoke wreathed around his head. 
    Jack avoided his eyes and lit one for himself.  It didn't calm him in the least. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, George?"
    "Yeah, but you aren't.  Look Jack, I wish there was some way I could help you but I can't.  I came to terms with what we do a long time ago.  I thought you had as well.  I never thought that you...you hated what went on until you told me.  I don't think I can bear to see you like that again, you know, like you were the night before Harry grabbed me.  Look, I won't try anything anymore, alright?" 
    Jack looked into George's eyes and was deeply shocked at the sadness and resignation he saw there.  He'd never thought on how his bouts with denial had affected George and now he could see quite clearly the hurt they had inflicted.  George did care about him and always had.  
    "You're prepared to let this go, aren't you?"
    Jack's voice cracked.  George simply nodded.  His eyes had gone very bright and he was getting splotchy in that cute way he had when either very drunk or very emotional.  Jack's stomach started doing flip-flops and he knew he'd reached make or break time with George.  Without reservation, he knew which path to choose.
    "I don't want you to let it go.  I need you, George.  You're the only one I can trust, the only one who's always there."  Jack ran a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the bed.  "How long have we been getting up to...how long have we been at this George? It's been nearly four years and I should have faced up to this by now." 
    "What are you saying, Jack?"
    "I'm saying I should have done this years ago, no matter you being married."
    He leaned in and kissed George, winding his fingers in shaggy blond hair.  He tasted of cake and cigarettes, but it was the nicest kiss Jack had ever had. George's lips opened and Jack tried to devour him whole.  He felt George's good arm snake around and try to pull him closer.  He vaguely heard a crash but ignored it.  His hands slid over George's broad shoulders and down his chest.  Jack felt George wince and pulled breathlessly away.
    "Easy, Jack!"
    Jack's heart pounded.  He realised how tight a grip he had, and eased off.
    "Shit, did I hurt you?" 
    "Here, Jack, can you shift over?"
    Jack shifted and saw that the color had drained from George's face.  
    "Are you alright?"
    "Well, it is starting to hurt a bit."
    Jack pulled up George's white t-shirt.  His stomach was an unpleasant mottle of green, yellow, and black.  Jack reached a tentative hand out, guilt welling up in him.  George waved him away.
    "Looks worse than it is.  Give us one of those tabs, will ya? And get the tray.  Mum'll go spare if that dish breaks." 
    Jack handed George a glass of water and one of the little white painkillers.  He swallowed it quickly and lay back with a sigh.  
    "I guess a shag's really out of the question.  That kiss will have to do.  Bloody nice and all."
    Jack smiled down at him.  His hands lightly stroked George's face, as he moved to kiss George's neck.  His lips dragged across the pale stubble of his jaw and chin, then back up to his waiting lips.  He let go of the kiss reluctantly.  He sat back and smiled at his sweet blond lad.
    "Look, I'm sorry, George, this is all my fault.  Those villains were after me." 
    "You always were the lucky bastard..." George chuckled and winced again.  
    "Yes, he is."
    Jack's head snapped around to see Mrs. Carter framed in the doorway trying very hard not to smile.  Fear knifed through him, but passed quickly.  She didn't look angry, only amused.  He hoped she had not seen too much.
    "Jack, give us that tray will you? And close your mouth, you look like a cod."
    She bustled him aside and felt George's forehead.  Jack quickly picked up the tray and dish.  She took it from him and pulled him out of the room.  
    "George, you will go to sleep now.  Jack, you will go home now."
    "Best do as she says, mate." 
    George's chuckles followed Jack down the steps as Mrs. Carter herded him out.
    
    *
    
    George was almost asleep when he heard his mother enter the room.  She sighed and paused in the doorway.  He cracked an eye open and gave her a look.  She smiled indulgently at him, but worry was clear in her expression.  George was afraid that she had seen too much and wasn't sure what he would or indeed could say.
    "Mum? How much of that little scene did you witness?"
    "What little scene, dear?"
    "Don't give us that.  What did you see?"
    Mrs. Carter came in and sat on the edge of the bed.  She took his hand and held it in her lap.
    "He cares for you, George." 
    George snorted and pulled a face.  
    "Him? Care? Only about the job, Mum."
    "Don't judge him too harshly, dear.  You didn't see him when you were in hospital.  You didn't come round for almost a whole day.  I was petrified.  Your Jack burst into the ward and refused to leave.  He was with you the whole time.  The Ward Sister thought he was your father..." They both grinned at that, in spite of themselves.
    "I shouldn't let him find that out."
    "Are you going to tell him? I'm quite sure I won't."
    George made an uncomplimentary noise. "Nah...I want to keep my head.  Really? He was there the whole time?"
    "Sister found him in tears right before you woke up."
    "No wonder he looked like hell."
    "He's very tender with you, George.  He's not like that with anyone else, is he?"
    George sucked in his lip and thought hard.  Only his daughter, Susie, rated that sort of concern.  And he had the niggling suspicion that he got more of Jack than Susie did.
    "It's not what I'd have wished for you, but now that Allison's gone, it comforts me to know that there's someone looking after you.  If push ever came to shove, I know he'd be there to help you.  I think that it would probably go the same way for you."
    "Mum..."
    "George, you know Allison would complain to me about the two of you.  She said Jack wouldn't leave you alone, always calling and keeping you out all the time.  She hated him, you know.  She was terribly jealous.  She thought there was something going on between the two of you."
    George's eyes widened in surprise at her revelation.  He never thought that Allison had suspected anything, and he certainly never expected his mother to be so matter of fact about it.  His heart began to race, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
    "She was right, wasn't she?"
    George didn't answer. He didn't need to.  He knew the guilty look on his face would be enough for anyone to read.  Mrs. Carter simply squeezed his hand and placed it back in his lap.  
    "As I said, it's not what I would have wanted, but...I've had a long time to get used to the idea and as long as he's good to you, Georgie, I think I can live with it."
    She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, her expression more sympathetic than sad.  
    
    *
    
    Jack sat on the chair by the window and stared out.  He could hear George's mum rattling around in the kitchen and George was asleep on the sofa.  He stared at nothing in particular, trying to banish the thoughts forming in his head.  
    "Jack?"
    He turned and saw Mrs. Carter holding a glass out to him.  Somewhat surprised, He accepted the whiskey.  She winked at him and tossed back a bit from her own glass.
    "Now, Jack.  You of all people should know I like a drop now and then."
    Jack smiled at her and took a swallow.  It was the good stuff.  She winked at him and went over to the sofa.  She stroked George's hair lightly and took another sip.
    "I'll be making dinner now, Jack.  Join us, will you?"
    "Um...Sure, Mrs. Carter.  Sure."
    She smiled at him in a way that set off his alarm bells.  
    "What you up to?"
    "Why would you say such a thing, Jack? You should wake George up now.  Dinner will be ready in a half hour or so."
    She left the room closing the door behind her.  Jack got up and went over to the sofa.  He sat on the arm and looked down at his sleeping lad.  It had been four weeks since George had nearly been taken from him.  The bruises had faded, for the most part, and his cast was covered with get-well messages and rude pictures, but Jack couldn't seem to make the incident loosen its grip on him.  He sighed and stared out the window again.  
    "Jack?" came the sleepy voice.
    Jack looked down and smiled.  George blinked up at him and smiled back, with a soft, unfocused look that was so beautiful he couldn't stop himself from slipping down and kissing him soundly. 
    George made pleased sounds. "Didn't expect to see you here.  But I'm happy you are."
    "Your mum asked me to stay for dinner.  She was smiling in an odd way.  Rather like you, when you're up to something."
    George sucked in his lower lip and quickly looked away.  
    "What does she know, George?"
    Jack's thumb caressed George's chin.  
    "Well...It seems she's known something for a couple of years now."
    Jack's eyes grew large.  George chuckled and patted him on the knee.  "She said Allison complained about you.  Constantly.  Thought we were up to each other."
    "She knew." Jack's heart began to pound uncomfortably.  He shifted away from George and stared blankly into space.
    "She didn't know for sure...Mum likes you, Jack."
    "There's a change."
    "She told me about you, when I was in hospital, how you were and all."
    Jack's voice almost left him.  The horror came flooding back.  "You scared twenty years off me, George.  I sat next to your bed, crying like a baby.  Not even Susie's abduction hit me so hard.  I sat in the squad room almost unable to think, terrified of what was being done to you.  I lost it completely.  I'm not sure I can go through that again."
    Jack felt George shift and the warmth of his hand as they laced their fingers together.  He felt lighter for telling George how terrified he was.  The expected laughter didn't materialise.
    "I hope you don't ever have to, 'cause I sure don't want to face something like that again.  I thought it was over for me.  I was scared witless and the only thing I could think was that you'd not miss me."
    Jack's eyes welled up.  "I'd miss you something awful, George.  You knew I'd find you...didn't you?" Jack's voice cracked.
    George sighed.  His head rested on the back of the sofa. "I knew you'd find me.  I wasn't so sure I'd be alive when you did, though.  They gave me the worst kicking of my life.  I was really scared, Jack.  I was really afraid I'd never..."  George's grip on his hand grew tighter.
    "I'm sorry, George." 
    "The worst part was that we still had unfinished business...You know I love you, don't you Jack?"
    "I know."
    "I was so down that I let them get the jump on me."
    "It wasn't your fault, George.  I..." Jack reached for his glass and finished it.  He set it back down and turned to face George.  "I'm trying to come to terms with this...You mean more to me than anyone else, even Susie.  I'm just afraid.  You've got so much time ahead of you and I don't want to ruin it all."
    "Ruin it?" 
    "Don't be naive, George.  A10 frowns on people like us.  Hell, everyone frowns on people like us.  I've always wanted better for you.  On the best of days, I'm a rotten old bastard, and you deserve better."
    "Yes... I do, but I don't want better.  I want you."
    "And God help me, I want you and all."
    Jack could do nothing but sit and stare at the far wall, a few large tears rolling from his eyes.  When he regained control of himself, he noticed George had not let go of his hand and his eyes were bright as well.  Jack quickly kissed George's fingers and let go of him.  They both sniffed and wiped their noses on their sleeves. 
     George started chuckling first.  "Don't let Mum catch you doin' that..."
    "That'll be the least of what she'll have to worry about catching me at."
    Jack laughed as he lunged at George.  They wrestled on the sofa, giggling like children.  George felt so warm and alive in his grip that Jack could finally believe he was all right.  
    "I need you, George..." Jack growled.
    His hands moved over George with more urgency.  He teased down the waistband of George's tracksuit bottoms, revealing a swath of white skin.  Only the palest remnants of bruising remained. Relief flooded through him.  Jack buried his face in George's tum, nibbling and teasing at his navel.  
    "Jack...stop, you're gettin' me goin'..."
    Jack chuckled softly.  He slid a hand down the front of George's pants and squeezed.  The lad was indeed going.  He pulled the cloth away and slid his mouth down to completely engulf George's cock.  Jack was elated.  George smelled alive, he tasted alive, sounded alive and, most importantly, he felt alive.  With each lick and suck he could feel George's pulse pounding and hear his muffled cursing.  George's hips were already bouncing in abandon.  Jack slipped his hand down to fondle George's balls and with a bit of soft handling and a few good licks, he had them sitting high, tight, and ready to go.  He could feel George shaking, both with the desire to finish and the desire not to make enough noise to have his mother come running back in.  He gave a little squeeze, one last good suck, and George was filling his mouth.  
    "Bloody Hell, Jack...you'll give me...a heart attack one of these days..." he panted.
    George's eyes were closed and he was a flushed pink.  He had a stupid, happy grin on his face.  Jack always wondered if it was just the sex, or the sex with him in particular that made George look like this.  He slid back up George's lax, sprawled body and kissed him soundly.
    "Bet you say that to everyone who blows you."
    George grabbed him by the neck and held him close.
    "I don't, and you know it." 
    Jack did know it.  He leaned in and kissed him again.  It was good.
    "Should have started this kissing lark ages ago."
    "Told ya."
    They went at it again until Jack heard footsteps in the hall.  They barely separated in time, as Mrs. Carter popped her head in and announced dinner.
    
    *
    
    "Well, well, well, if it isn't our lad George.  Finally deigned to rejoin us, have you!" 
    Tom Daniels' voice cut above the buzz of the squad room.  George grinned broadly.  Daniels cut through the crowd and grabbed his hand.  He was pleased at the turnout for his return.  He scanned the room to see who was there and the whole of the squad seemed to have turned out.  Well, everyone but Matthews had turned out.  That seemed odd to George, as Matt wasn't one to miss a party.  He'd have to ask Jack what was going on.  It took some time to reach Jack through the press of well-wishers.  
    "Where's Matt? Didn't send him out on a job on my party day did ya?"
    Jack looked vaguely uncomfortable.
    "Uh...no...Look, George, settle in why don't you? I have to meet with Haskins."
    George grabbed him by the arm, without being obvious about it.  "You do not...Where is he?"
    "I told you, he was making trouble...I let him have a graceful way out."
    George's eyebrow arched.  Jack had that look about him that said he wasn't telling the whole story.  He danced around under George's scrutiny, his mouth twisted into a nasty grimace.
    "Did he threaten you?"
    "No."
    Jack's eyes slid away and he chewed on his lower lip.  Another face which George had seen a million times.  
    "Ahhh, so he threatened me."
    Jack didn't even bother to deny it.  That was something of a step.
    "It's good riddance to him, George.  Like you said, he wasn't a team player."
    "He'll talk, Jack."
    Jack's grin was feral.  "He can try."
    Their eyes locked.  Jack smiled and surreptitiously slipped his hand onto the small of George's back.  He winked and swiftly stole a grope.  It was all George could do not to yelp.  
    "You're a right bastard, Jack."
    "Nice to see you've gotten some sense, George, my lad." 
    Daniels thumped him on the back as he walked by.  The two of them laughed but George winked slyly at Jack before he sloped off with Daniels to get some tea.
    
    --**--
    End


End file.
